Kurt

 

 

 

Life in The Village, through the eyes of a student at the remote school.
(This is a parallel story to "Schoolie", but through different eyes.)

This is an original work of pure fiction (just an expression of a fantasy)
by Robert A. Armstrong (a pseudonym)

The resemblance of the characters by action, name, location or description to any real person is purely coincidental.

If it is illegal, or offensive, for you to read stories involving interactions of a sexual nature between adults and youths, what are you doing here?

 

 

From Chapter 3:

Ron holds me with one hand across my chest, like William did, and then starts playing with my balls and stiff willie, rubbing it up and down. Is this something that all sixteen-year olds like to do? I reckon that he's got to be more than sixteen if he's going to start university soon!

"Do you wank yet?" he whispers.

 

Chapter 4 – This Feels Good!

I have no idea what he has just said, so I answer, "Umm, I don't know. What's that?"

"That's OK. It doesn't matter," he says softly. It almost sounds like an apology for asking a question that I should have known the answer to, but don't.

He then holds my body against his with both arms and I can feel him pushing his cock in and out between my legs. He makes some humming and grunting sounds as he does it. Each time he pushes his cock underneath my balls, my penis jumps.

I wait for a while, enjoying the feeling of the movement between my legs, then I repeat his words to him, "You like doing this, don't you?".

"I love it!" he replies. "Can we go for a little bit longer?"

I again look around to check where Karl is, then reply, "That's OK. It doesn't matter."

He laughs at my exact words and similar tone to his own. "So, you've become a parrot as well as a turkey and a galah, have you?"

He moans a bit, pushes a lot, then holds me really tight for a while. Even though his upper body is still, I can still feel some movement between my legs, making my own penis jump too. "Thanks, buddy," he finally says.

"It's OK. I didn't mind. It actually felt kinda nice." I tell him.

"Can we keep it a secret, just between you and me?" he asks.

Now, I've never had anyone ask me to keep a secret before. It feels really good to be trusted. "Sure!" I reply. It's probably something I wouldn't want anyone to know anyway. Ron is definitely delivering the result of my #2 wish at Christmas, even if he doesn't look like William.

"We could do it again if you're here next holidays, if you want to," I add, "if the water's not too cold by then."

He hugs me.

"So, you won't tell Karl?" he asks tentatively, as if testing any limits of my promise.

"Especially not him!" I laugh.

"What about your Dad," he asks me, sounding a little concerned.

"Especially not him either!" I add. "It's OK. I know what a secret is."

I think that if I tell anyone, I might get into trouble, and I might not ever see him again, or never get to hang onto his `Big' again. Or feel his balls again. Or have him make me feel good again.

"I like you, Kurt Anderson," he whispers again. "Come on, we'd better swim up and down a bit with your brother, and let our `things' go down in the cold water, if you know what I mean." He gives my stiffness a few parting jiggles, then he lets it go, and again holds me with his hand under my backside.

"Yeah. I know exactly what you mean," I laugh. Then I think: maybe it wasn't the pancakes on the stove after all. Could it have just been the cold water in the sink?

I ask Ron, "What will we say to Karl when he wants to know what we were doing? He's gonna ask me, for sure!"

Ron is quick. "How about we tell him that I was filling you in on all of the time that I've spent in the gym and about everything that I do here, and how long I've been coming up here to help my uncle."

"Well, you'd better tell me some details sometime, later, in case he asks me at home. I will need a good answer." I sound a little concerned, because I am. "The last thing I need is to have to make up something which my brother will then check with Dad, to find out whether I'm lying."

Ron calls to Karl downstream, "Hey, your brother is telling me that he's hungry. What about you?" He lets me go, pushing me towards the bank, then slowly starts after Karl, breaststroke.

I back-pedal, upstream, for a few strokes, and then turn and churn back towards Ron and Karl. I not only catch up to Ron but pass him. He makes a bit of a show of calling, "Hey, you told me that you couldn't swim very well. If I'd known that you could swim like that, I wouldn't have kept your head above water for so long. In fact, if I'd known you were lying, I would have seen how long you can hold your breath... with me on your shoulders."

He's a great liar! That takes care of why he was hanging on to me.

The thought of Ron holding me under water really delights Karl. He's all smiles. "Hey, I'll help you if you like!" Karl shouts to Ron and then heads full-pelt back towards me, like a torpedo zooming in on its target.

I don't feel like testing out my lung capacity today, so I turn and head straight for the bank until I can stand, then I run the rest of the way back to the bikes.

I hear, "Buk, Buk, Buk, Bukaaaa." I don't have to look to recognise my brother's clucking voice.

And the cold water, without Ron's hot body next to mine, has done its work. No pancakes. No erection. No worries.

Karl reaches Ron but, with no warning, he becomes submerged by a pair of muscly hands on his shoulders.

I estimate that he lasts two seconds, three at the most, before he comes up spluttering and gasping.

However, Ron hasn't reckoned on Karl's never-come-off-second-best attitude and immediately finds himself attacked.

From the look on his face, Karl is going to try to drown him, I'm sure. I watch a bit of wrestling, and then Karl, while gripping Ron's neck from behind, yelps in what sounds like the result of a ball-scrunching experience.

Ron heads for the bank and walks up next to me. The cold water has worked its magic on him too.

Without bothering to put any of his clothes back on, Ron picks out a suitable spot under the tree and spreads out a rug. Then he starts to unpack lunch from the back of my bike.

Karl joins us, looking a little apprehensive, and stands partially behind me.

Ignoring what has just happened in the water, Ron says, "My aunt always packs a good meal. She says that boys who do a man's work, should have a man's lunch." It's not Vegemite sandwiches! Instead, when Ron opens the containers, there is sliced lamb, chicken drumsticks and cold roast potatoes. There are also bread rolls. Ron tosses one each to me and to Karl and comments, "She makes these herself. Fresh every day. That's why I'm so fat!"

I'm the first to catch on to his humour and I laugh. Karl is a tad slower: Ron's well-muscled, gym-exercised body hasn't a skerrick of unwanted fat on it. (But I do know part of him that gets fat. Haha)

Ron hands Karl and me the containers and tells us to take them over to the rug. Here we go! He's back to having us do the work again!

He brings over a couple of cold cans from somewhere and gives us one each. I look at the label. "We're not allowed to drink beer," I tell him.

"It's OK," he says. "I've also got some cans of orange for later, so that your dad won't smell it on your breath. It won't kill you, you know, and your dad will never know. Besides, he likes to have a beer with his lunch too. Come on. One won't hurt you." He pulls the ring thing on his can and holds it up. "Cheers!" he says. It's like fist-bumping, except with a can.

Karl looks at me, slowly opens his can and matches Ron's. "Cheers!" At a safe distance.

"Cheers!" I join them. I hadn't imagined my #2 giving me can of beer, but I'm beginning to really like him.

Ron puts the food at the top of the rug, towards the middle, then lays himself down near the edge, supporting himself on one elbow and starts picking at the food. "Come on. Dig in. Help yourselves," he says.

Karl copies Ron, reclining on the rug, facing him. But on the opposite side.

It's easiest for me to lie between them, on my stomach, resting on both elbows so that I can eat. The food is within easy reach by the three of us.

It enters my mind that also within reach are two sausages. A normal-sized one to my left, and a bigger, hairier version to my right. And two pairs of eggs. Just a thought!

Karl doesn't need to ask the question that is probably on his mind.

Ron provides him an answer right up front. "Hey, Karl. While your brother was pretending that he needed a life guard, I was telling him about myself, and I thought that, maybe, you'd like to know too. I've been staying here every school holidays since I became a senior in high school. That's four times a year. I come here for a couple of reasons. Firstly, it's good to get away from home and sometimes I get to bring a mate with me. Secondly, my uncle can't afford to employ more workers because of the drought. He used to get money for horses and cattle and sheep and wool, but it's all different now to what it was a few years ago."

My first thought at hearing this news is that my Dad is the only worker who is being paid, and that his boss can't afford any more money. I'm glad that Ron has been able to help. Me too. And my brother.

So, Ron brings mates up here! I wonder if he does anything in the swimming hole with them, like he did with me. Maybe, with his friends, he's like just William and us.

Ron continues, "I'm happy to do anything around the place that needs doing, but I really enjoy working with the horses."

"Where are the horses?" Karl asks, suddenly more interested. "I haven't seen any."

"They're in a couple of different paddocks, down in the other direction past the house. There's grass and water for them down there near the river. We keep the paddocks up here for the sheep and cattle. The paddocks of mulga up here provide food for them, even in drought. After the trees grow too tall for them to reach, we harvest some of the branches off each tree for them to eat. And they just keep rejuvenating. You know, growing back."

"I haven't seen many animals this morning," I say, "but we did see some when we turned off the main road."

"Yes," he replies. "We don't have too many at the moment – we've only kept particular animals for breeding when the drought breaks." He adds, "When we've finished here, we'll head down to the horse paddocks."

 

Karl stands up and says, "I need to pee. It must be the beer." He begins to walk away from us, just as if he was at home.

As soon as he has his back to us, I feel Ron rubbing my backside, and he says quietly. "How are you doing, Champ? You OK with everything?"

Despite enjoying the feeling of his hand on my bum, I have a sudden urge to pee as well. "Sorry," I apologise to Ron, "but I need to go too."

As I get up, I give his cock a quick grab. "Oops!" I say, "Sorry. I must have mistaken it for a sausage! Sorry."

He just grins. "I'm not sorry," he whispers. "Pity we're not alone! I could teach you some great fun stuff."

I hurry to stand alongside my brother, and proceed to empty my bladder, as we often do at home.

Karl has always been able to pee farther than me! "I can still beat you!" he says. And he does.

We finish almost together and turn to go back. We see Ron peeing not far from where we were sitting. I watch him as we walk back. He half turns towards us as he finishes up.

"You don't have to hide them out here, you know!" he tells us. "The three of us all have one!"

"Yes, but yours is so big!" Karl blurts out.

"Nice of you to notice," Ron replies.

"It's hard to miss!" I add as an aside comment. Then I look at his face and laugh. I decide to ask, "How old are you, anyway?"

"I turned eighteen a couple of months ago. How old are you two?"

"Thirteen!" Karl says, without adding `next Friday'.

"Mine was about your size, when I was your age. You'll grow! From what I can see of you both, especially with those chicken feathers, you've already started."

I'm encouraged! I want a big one. Like William and my Dad. But I don't think mine will grow as thick as Ron's, or else I reckon that my Dad's would be like that too.

Karl and I start to put our clothes on. "Finish your cans and then put the empties into the bag, here," Ron tells us. Then he gathers the uneaten food back into the containers.

"It's good to see you doing some of the work, for a change" I throw at him.

"Karl, can you get the blanket, please?" he asks.

Then, as I help Ron put the left-overs and rubbish onto the back of my bike, he stands behind me, squeezes my backside and says, "I can tell that you're the cheeky one, aren't you!"

He burps loudly, which sets off a chain reaction from Karl and me. Followed by laughter. "Make sure that you drive carefully on the way back. We don't want the police arresting you for drink-driving."

Funny, I think to myself. The closest policeman would be way more than three hours' drive away, in Big Town. Unless he's out here to investigate the disappearance of two 13-year olds, or the discovery of two drowned bodies.

I do feel a little light-headed, and I'm not sure that drinking a can of beer was such a good idea. I will enjoy the orange much more.

Everything's packed and secured, and I follow almost beside Ron, with Karl eating my dust most of the way. I think that he's not too bright, sometimes!

We follow a line of fences that runs almost parallel to the river. One more repair and then we head away from it. We pass close by the house but keep going. The swimming hole was actually closer to it than I had reckoned.

It's not long before the wire-stranded fences give way to wooden ones – posts and three rails. Ron stops and we pull up next to him. "This is where the horses are!" he says. "We'll follow the wooden fences right around this large paddock and then we'll be done for the day."

The wooden rails are bolted to the posts. Ron says that in this heat, things expand and contract and the nuts can become loose. He checks every rail. When he finds one that is loose, he gets Karl and me to work together, on opposite sides of the fence. One grips the bolt and the other tightens the nut.

Yeah! Right! He does the checking and we do the work. Again. I might have known! I can't tell if he's doing it to be funny or to be mean.

I ask him why these fences are so different and he tells me that the horses are strong and need a strong fence. Besides, horses don't have the same thick hide as cattle and the same protective covering as sheep, and broken strands of wire could injure them.

It's not hard work, but there is a lot more to be done here than where we were earlier.

We've been working at it solidly for a couple of hours when Ron tells us to stop – under another large gum tree. He gives us a can of orange each. We climb up on one of the fences and sit on the top rail. Well, it's more like balancing on the top rail – my backside is hanging over one side, while my legs are on the other side, with heels firmly planted on the middle rail. Ron is in between Karl and me. The drinks are still cool and I enjoy the taste – orange is better than beer.

While we drink, we watch the horses and chat about the uni course that Ron is going to do, farm management. His uncle has already taught him a lot, and he likes talking with our Dad, who has given him lots of ideas on how the property could be improved. Ron says that his uncle isn't really ready to change the way he has done things for so many years.

The post and rail fences for the horses was the most significant thing his uncle has done since Ron has been coming here. Our Dad convinced him that it was a good idea and he borrowed money from the bank to do it. He's still paying for it, which is becoming more difficult these days.

Ron tells us that his uncle often grumbles about deciding to go ahead with it and asks us not to tell our Dad that.

Karl and I agree. Ron says "Thanks." He rubs my back in slow circles then starts to pat my overhanging backside. I can tell that he's not doing the same thing to my brother, because he's holding his can in the hand that is nearer to Karl.

I feel special. I think that I might have made a new friend.

Ron doesn't have to point out what I can see. Male horses have a penis that hangs down when they are going to pee. Some are bigger than others. Like Ron and us and William. Some get stiff and stand up more towards their body. We even see one stallion put his into a mare. Ron says that he enjoys watching horses `going at it, fucking' and it always makes him hard. He puts his hand over the bulge in his pants. "You guys know what I mean?"

Karl replies, "Yep. We know what you mean. Ours get hard too sometimes. Like now." He puts his hand on the front of his jeans too, then removes it to display the outline of his erection.

"Me too," I say. Mine is hard like Karl's. But, at a different angle, my outline is more obvious.

Ron reaches across and puts his hand on my erection, then swaps his drink can to that hand and has a quick feel of Karl's as well. "They're good sizes for thirteen-year olds," he says. "They'll get bigger! You can feel mine if you want to."

Karl looks past Ron, at me; his expression is asking my opinion on whether we should do it or not. I take the lead and put my hand over Ron's bulge, and have a good feel of his hard cock. It jumps. "Big!" I say. He turns to me and winks.

Karl understands my reference to William's `Big' and grins broadly.

"Go on," Ron tells Karl, giving him permission again. He does, but it's more of a tentative touch than the long feel that I took.

It goes without saying that we won't be telling Dad about this, like we don't tell him about playing with William. And I intend to keep my promise to not mention the other stuff that Ron did with me. That was something special between just him and me. It has woken up feelings in me that I haven't experienced before.

Then, without any more touching of each other, Ron says, "Come on, guys. We're done for the day. Let's head back." And he climbs down. We follow his lead.

We start the bikes and follow Ron, riding back behind the house and putting the quads in their shed.

Dad meets us. "Have fun today, guys?"

"He's a slave driver," Karl jumps in, being funny, but adds, "Yes, it was good. We learned some new stuff."

Dad asks Ron, "How were they, really?"

"Hard workers," he replies. "They are a credit to you, Jan, and will be a great pair of farm hands in the future, if they stay around here." He doesn't mention the swimming hole.

My Dad's name is Jan. It looks like a girl's name in English when it's written down, but it's pronounced `Yarn'. He was born in a place called Denmark. He told us that he didn't want any Aussie jokers calling his boys by girls' names like they used to do to him when he came here, so that's why he and Mum named us Karl and Kurt.

"OK. I'm finished too," Dad says. "It was really helpful having you do the fences without me today, Ron. Thanks."

"Both boys were really good helpers, Jan. Maybe they'd like to come out again next holidays. We could even stay out in one or two of the workers' bunk houses for a night, maybe longer, with a camp fire, if you think they'd like that."

Dad thinks for a bit then replies, "Are you sure that two wouldn't be too much for you to handle? We could always make up two teams. Kurt could work with me and you could have Karl. Or vice versa. What do you think?"

"That could work." Ron says. "Besides, if he caused a problem, one body would be much easier to dispose of than two."

He and Dad both laugh. I smile at the thought. Karl scowls, probably thinking how close he has already come to being drowned and becoming victim number one.

Then Karl brightens, "Hey, maybe William could come out too. He'd be a good helper. His cousin Marty has taught him lots of work stuff. And he's big and strong. Then he could work with me and Dad while Kurt helps Ron."

Aha! There it is again. Karl and William! William and Karl!

The difference this time is, I'm happy about it, because I would get to work with Ron. Alone. And, the best thing is, that Ron and Dad and Karl have all suggested this. I haven't needed to say a word.

Then, "What do you think, Kurt?" Dad asks me. "You've been unusually quiet."

I say, "It sounds like a great idea, Dad, if Ron is happy to teach me whatever he wants me to do, I'd be happy to go with him." My intentional double meaning is lost on Dad and Karl, but not on Ron. He grins at me and quickly raises an eyebrow in acknowledgment.

"OK. Sounds like a plan!" Dad says, as he heads back towards the house. Karl hurries to be alongside him, and I can hear him telling Dad of all the things that William might be able to help with.

Ron hangs back and walks more slowly, with me. The distance between us and Dad increases.

"What do you think, Champ? Would you like me to teach you some stuff?" he says quietly enough to not be heard by the others. He squeezes my backside. Again.

"I'm a quick learner," I tell him, and attempt to squeeze him as well, but his rock-hard butt muscles make squeezing a bit difficult. So, I try his bulge up front instead, then step away, sideways, in case he retaliates and is seen by one of the others.

"Hey, I can tell that you're a fun type of guy!" He tells me. "I like you."

Instead of giving a mature answer, I giggle, like a kid. However, I do manage, "You're OK, yourself... Mr Big."

"And you're cheeky too!" he says, stepping across behind me and giving my butt yet another squeeze.

We increase our pace and catch up to Dad and Karl.

"Dad, can you please tell Mrs Cameron thank you for the lunch she sent out for us?" I ask. "It was great. And we liked the cold can of orange." Ron and Karl look at me and smile. They both give me a discrete `thumbs up'.

Dad goes into the house. Ron stays with Karl and me.

"It was really nice to meet you guys," Ron says. "I look forward to next time."

"Yes, thanks, Ron," Karl replies. shaking his hand. "Thanks for not drowning us, that is." A small measure of his usual sense of humour has returned.

"Yes, thank you, Ron," I add, also shaking his hand. "And I'm sorry for telling you that I couldn't swim very well."

"All good," he replies.

I look him in the eye and don't release our handshake.

"He does that to people a lot," Karl says, noticing.

"No problem," Ron replies, and squeezes, no, crushes my hand. "Simple release technique!"

"Like squeezing my nuts in the swimming hole?" Karl asks, smirking.

"You got off lightly!" he chuckles to Karl. "Besides, you deserved it, didn't he, Kurt?"

"Hey, leave me out of it!" I tell him. "I don't want Karl demonstrating on me whatever you did to him, when we get home. He's likely to over-exaggerate, on purpose. Besides, Didn't you start it?"

Karl smiles at me, nods, and gives me a thumbs-up for supporting him. Ron fakes a hurt look at me for not backing him up.

"Shhh." Ron says. "They're heading back. Let's keep the swimming hole, including the beer, just between us, guys, OK?" There is a 3-way fist bumping of agreement.

We meet Mrs Cameron, who said she wanted to meet the boys with the nice manners. "Handsome, too." She tells our Dad. I thank her again.

Dad gets into the driver's seat and Karl immediately piles into the front passenger's seat. "My turn!" he tells me.

For once, he's right. I rode in the front on the way out here.

Ron holds the back door open for me and, copying his aunt's tone, whispers, "Handsome, too." He squeezes me. He certainly seems to like my backside!

He receives a friendly and very gentle nut grab from me as I get in, then I shut the door quickly, and grin at him from behind shut window. I silently mouth, `Big'. He just smirks. Playful! A great #2 for me!

Pity I won't see him again for another 10 weeks!

 

On the way home, Dad tests us by asking questions about how to mend fences. Conversation soon turns to school, and Mr Grant, and seeing all of our friends, and the need for some new clothes.

"I didn't realise how much you two have grown in the past couple of months until I saw how short your jeans are," he tells us. "I could see your socks."

Then he adds, "And how tight they are. Isn't it uncomfortable having your balls all squashed up in your jeans?" stretching a hand over towards Karl's lap.

"Dad!" Karl protests at our father's unexpected openness about our bodies.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to embarrass you. But you are growing down there too, I can tell."

"You're not wrong, Dad." I tell him from the security of the back seat. "It was awful trying to get everything out to take an urgent pee. Belt, button and zipper. I nearly wet myself. I think we need some new ones!"

"On the shopping list!" Dad replies.

On the drive home, I fall asleep. Sweet dreams about Ron and me in the swimming hole. I wake up near home.

Dad's right! Growing balls, with a stiff willie taking up the extra space, makes life very uncomfortable in tight jeans! At least my new school shorts won't give me the same problem. Dad only bought them for us at Christmas time. The elastic waist means that I just have to pull them down. No belt. No zipper.

"Righto!" Dad says as we pull up outside the house. "Why don't you two have a quick shower then we can go over to the pub for dinner tonight. I really appreciate it when you start dinner on the days when I work. But, tonight, we can all have a special treat. You two go first, and I'll have my shower after you."

He adds, "Put your clothes straight into the washing basket. And we'll have to see if we can find anyone who needs two pairs of jeans your size."

Karl and I strip everything off, including shirts, socks and undies, and put them all in a pile, ready for the basket. Dad looks at us, as we walk naked from our bedroom to the bathroom but he makes no comment.

I know that he's checking out our `growth'. I'm OK with that. He knows that I know, and he smiles.

We don't normally close the bathroom door, but today, Karl pushes it almost shut.

Two in the bath is still easy, providing that we're not sitting. However, two trying to fit under a small shower doesn't seem to work that well. Standing in the bath, I offer to go second under the shower. Good manners!

While Karl is washing, I take a good look at his body. We're twins. I could just as well be looking in a mirror!

He gives his body a quick rinse and then washes his hair and turns his back to me while he rinses it off so that splashes don't go all over the floor. His backside is good-looking, rounded and muscular, but not as hard as Ron's. He turns to the front again, and I can see the beginning outline of stomach and chest muscles. His penis and balls are handsome, and his hairs have grown too.

Do I look just like him? I hope so! I see in Karl exactly what Ron sees in me.

"What are you staring at?" he asks me, but not angrily.

"I must look just like you," I tell him. "So, I suppose I'm just checking out my growing body." I smile. So does he. "Turn around and I'll wash your back," I offer. He hands me the soap.

He moves from under the spray of water while I soap up and rub his back. Then I do his backside. He parts his legs and I do between them, as we have always done for each other. "Rinse off then turn around," I tell him. He does.

I lather up my hands and rub his chest and stomach. "I've already done the front," he says.

"I know," I reply, but just continue. I move to his cock and balls and give them a deliberately slow and thorough soaping. He lets me.

He closes his eyes and says, "Oh, that actually feels so good when you do it like that. Thanks." His penis starts to swell. Then, "Hey, let's not do this. Dad will be in for his shower soon."

He rinses off. I hand him his towel and he steps out.

No sooner have I replaced him, standing under the shower, when there is a knock at the door.

"Are you guys OK in there?" Dad asks.

"Yes, Dad," we both answer.

"May I come in?"

"Of course!" Karl answers. He has the towel hanging down his front to conceal his partial erection, while continuing to wipe his face and hair with one end of it.

Dad pushes the door open. "Everything OK, boys?" he asks again. "You don't normally close the door."

Maybe I shouldn't have answered, because that only draws Dad's attention to me. "We were just talking about what we did today with Ron, and also our `growing bodies'," I say matter-of-factly, while soaping up my chest and under-arms.

Karl cuts in, "Yes, how Ron tried to drown me."

"Only after you attacked him," I say.

"No. He started it. I was only trying to get even."

"Actually, you're right. I remember now," I tell him. You swam up to him and he immediately dunked you. Didn't even give you time to take a breath!"

"That's what I said. He tried to drown me."

"Were you giving him any of that smart-alec lip that you like to throw around?" Dad asks, smirking at Karl.

"No, Dad, honest," Karl says. "I was just swimming near him and he tried to drown me, for no reason."

"No harm done," Dad says, ruffling Karl's semi-wet hair. "You survived. And look at you. Both of you. Growing up into handsome young men.

Karl relaxes and grabs the towel with both hands to rub across and dry his back. Dad comments, unexpectedly, "I was right. You are both growing down there too." He points. No use of us trying to cover up with any false modesty. "You've even got a crop of pubic hair. You're definitely growing up!"

I don't know what to say. It's Karl who asks, "Did you say `public hair'? What does that mean?"

Dad laughs, "Not `public' son, `pubic'. It's just the name for that area of your body. Pubic hair is what's around a man's penis and testicles. Like mine." We look. (Did I forget to mention that he is naked, waiting for his shower? Should I even be thinking that my Dad has a great body, and good muscles?)

We get another anatomy lesson, not just about the `public hair' (LOL) but about our `crotch', our `man package', `erections', etc.. Then he says, "And I expect that you guys will start to have new feelings soon and think about wanting to do things that you've never done before."

I stare blankly into his eyes, as if I don't know what he's talking about, not wanting to reveal anything like my wet pyjama pants or how excited I felt with Ron and me touching each other and `mucking around' together.

Dad concludes with, "So if you want to talk to me about anything, or ask me any questions about stuff, it's OK. All right?"

"Yes, Dad," Karl and I say, again in unison.

"Now, hurry up and get your arse out of there, Kurt, so I can have my shower before you empty the water tank!" he laughs at me, then walks out.

"Do my back," I say quietly Karl, handing him the soap. I turn around. He does. "Wanna do my front?" He chuckles, and does it, just like I did to him. Nice!

"Hurry up!" Dad calls.

I rinse off, turn off the taps and quickly dry myself up front while Karl does my back.

We leave the bathroom together. "We left you some water," Karl laughs as we pass Dad. Dad misses him, but he lands a swat on my tail.

Laughter all round. "Love you guys!" Dad calls as we hear the water turn back on.

"Love you too, Dad," I call.

 

We enter the pub by a side door, not the front one. It's nice inside. I don't remember being in here before. My mother wouldn't let us near the place, and when we walked past it, going to and from school, we had to stay on the other side of the road.

We walk straight to the dining room. Dad orders a steak. Karl has lamb chops and I get a steak and kidney pie. They all come with vegetables. Dad has a beer. Karl has a Cola, and I have a can of orange, which brings back memories of my day with my new friend, Ron, my #2.

Apple pie, custard and cream, all fresh, top off a great dinner. Then we walk home, with one of Dad's arms over each of Karl's and my shoulders.

Pyjama pants on, we lie on our beds. "Would you like me to read you another chapter tonight?" Dad asks. "Or are you too tired?"

"I don't think I'd last the distance, Dad," I tell him. "Ron wore me out."

"Me too," Karl says. "I think we did more work than he did today."

"Best way to learn stuff is by doing stuff," Dad says. "I didn't hear Ron complain about your work. And I'll probably hear more from him tomorrow." He kisses us both, says goodnight and turns off the light.

Karl and I lie quietly for a while, then I have to ask him, "So, what did you think of Ron today?"

"You mean the attempted murderer?"

"Get over it!" I tell him. "This is me you're talking to! Cut out the failed assassination attempt stuff! He was only having a bit of fun, like we do with William in the weir. Tell me what you really thought of him."

"Well," he begins, "it was good of him to take us with him and teach us how to ride the quads and mend the fences."

"Yeah," I reply. "What else?"

"And he looked after us, apart from when..."

"Don't go there!" I cut him off. "What else?"

"I thought that he was pretty cool, offering us a can of beer. I suppose that he could get into trouble for that, though. You saw the signs in the pub tonight, that it's illegal to buy liquor for a minor – that's us – or to give any to us."

"Well, my lips are sealed. What about yours?" I ask. I need to know what my brother saw, and what he might say.

"Hey, I'm no rat. He asked us not to tell, and I won't. Same as when he was feeling our `stuff' and he let us feel his, while we were watching the horses... fucking." He giggles. It's a word that neither of us has used before. "His cock got so hard. So did mine. I'm not gonna tell anyone."

"Mine too. But it wasn't much more than we do with William, was it?" I say.

"Yeah, but we don't just sit with William and feel each other's `stuff', do we?"

"What would you prefer to do?" I ask him. "Have William take a grab at your dick, maybe hurt your balls then run away so that you can chase him and try to get even? Or sit with him on the lounge or on a bed and actually let him feel you gently, while you do the same to him?"

"Would you wanna do that?" Karl asks me.

"What's wrong with that? Didn't you like the way I washed you in the shower? You said that it felt good."

"Yes, but, that's different. We're brothers," he says. "We've always washed each other, back and front."

"Yes, but I actually enjoyed doing it to you tonight, gently, with the soap, and feeling you getting hard. I guess I am changing, like Dad said. I'd rather do it like that with William than hurt him or have him hurt me."

"I suppose. But I don't know whether William would let you or me, do that with him."

"It wouldn't take much to find out, would it? And he can't chase you if you don't run away. What if you and I just did it, gently, and let him see us, to give him the idea. You know what Mum used to say, `do unto others...' and then we could be gentle with him, instead of hitting, or pulling his cock. What do you think?" I plant the idea in his head.

I don't tell him that William has already been gentle with me once, behind the waterfall.

"I dunno," Karl replies. "I dunno if he would do that."

"Wanna find out if he would?" I pause. "You don't have to, if you don't want to."

"You actually want to do that?" Karl asks again. I can't tell from his voice if he's happy, or mad, or disgusted, or what.

I decide to do something that will either make both of us feel good, or otherwise get me a black eye. I slide off my bed. "Move over!"

He says nothing. He doesn't move... well, not straight away.

I lay myself next to him. I wait for a bit, then reach for the elastic in his pyjama pants and slowly slide my hand inside. I feel his hairs, rub them, then keep going. His soft penis is sideways. I place my hand over it and extend my fingers down under his balls. I gather all of him into the one handful. I do nothing more, and say nothing.

He lies still. Then I feel movement. Under my hand.

There is a gradual but definite lengthening and hardening.

I contract my fingertips under his balls and there is a more rapid expansion.

When I sense that his penis is getting close to reaching its maximum firmness, I release his balls and wrap my hand around his stiffness. I feel it twitch. I move my hand up and down a few times then stop. It twitches again, perhaps in recognition or anticipation. I hold on.

Then there is another movement. His hand. He places it tentatively near my pyjama waist.

"It's OK," I encourage him.

He pushes inside, but what greets him is different to what I found. The first thing he feels is the end of my erection. I feel him make a tunnel with his fingers and he slides his hand down. It feels slippery.

"What's that?" he asks.

"No idea!" I whisper, "But it feels really good."

He does it again, and it's slipperier.

"Holy Cow. What are you doing?" I ask him. "That feels amazing."

"I'm not doing anything different to you," he replies, "but it's really slippery. What is it? Did you pee, or something."

"No! I didn't pee myself, but whatever it is, it feels great." I tell him.

I take my hand out of his pyjamas and feel inside my own. I feel myself and run my hand up and down. It gets even slipperier. I put my hand back on his so that he can feel what I feel.

"Oh, shit!" he says softly. "That feels so good!" He shudders, and then my hand is slipperier too.

"I think you can take over, by yourself," I say, and I get off his bed and lie back on my own.

"Do you think we should ask Dad what's happening?" he asks.

"Are you going to explain to him what we were doing?" I put to him.

There is a pause. "I guess not. Maybe William will know."

"So, do you want to see if William wants to play with us like this, and if he'll let us play with him?"

"Yeah, I do, now. If it's gonna feel like this."

Apart from our breathing both of us are almost silent, and we each know what the other one is doing.

I think about my brother doing this to me. And William. And Ron. And me doing it to each of them. Somewhere during my fantasy, I fall asleep.

 

My first thought when I wake up from my night of naughty dreams is whether my pyjamas are wet. I feel all around, and they're not. I'm surprised, but not disappointed. Relieved.

I look over at Karl. He slept on top of the sheets too, and sometime during the night, he pulled his pyjama pants down to his knees. They're still in the same place. So is his hand.

I lie still and smile at my new-found pleasure. And I can't wait to see if William is willing to be gentle with us.

 

(to be continued)

 

The parallel version to this story, is told through the eyes of Tom Grant, the `Schoolie'.
Find it at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/schoolie

If you'd like a full picture of their lives and thoughts, you should read both concurrently.

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rob.zz@hotmail.com

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